


damaged goods

by halcyonskies



Series: 100Themes: Dean/Cas [79]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Gen, Supernatural Home For Rehabilitation, Supernatural creatures are known, Werewolf Dean, Witch Charlie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5190926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonskies/pseuds/halcyonskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They stick together, here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	damaged goods

**Author's Note:**

> 100Themes Challenge - #20: Pain
> 
> SPA - Supernatural Protection Agency

Worried green eyes were on Castiel as soon as Dean was through the doorway.

“Woah, Cas, are you okay?”

Castiel wasn’t altogether sure how to answer a question like that. Objectively, he was as okay as he would ever be, and even the insistent, _chronic_ throb of pain radiating from his back was better than being dead. But sometimes, when he laid here for hours in silence and simply existed in a bubble of agony, he wondered whether being found by the SPA had been a good thing after all. He’d gotten more than one pitying comment about how _an angel without wings was no angel at all._

“Yes,” he finally settled on, turning his face into his pillow so he wouldn’t have to look at the earnest expression on Dean’s face. “It’s just my back. I ran out of salve.”

“Shit, Cas.” Dean moved through the room, toward Castiel, and the scent of grass and leather drifted closer. Dean always smelled earthy, masculine, though having been made into a partial werewolf meant that the lupine elements of his scent were heavily muted. Angelic senses easily picked Dean out for what he was, but even other werewolves might not know he used to be just like them.

“Why didn’t you go to the medical wing?” Dean asked after a few moments of thick silence, and Castiel felt the mattress beneath him give way as his friend settled tentatively on the bed. Dean was always so afraid of causing pain, especially to Castiel, one who would always feel it more acutely thanks to his current situation. But his hesitance only served to irritate Castiel, who wriggled impatiently until Dean settled a broad palm on the swell of his shoulder with a wry huff of amusement.

“Didn’t want to go that far,” he mumbled, feigning laziness even though he knew Dean would understand that the real reason he hadn’t gone was that the pain had been too intense today to venture out of bed.

The warmth of Dean’s hand slipped away, and the mattress springs creaked as Dean stood. “I’ll go ask if Charlie has any on hand.”

Charlie – whose room was only a few doors down the hall, an infinitely shorter walk than the several hundred feet it would take to get to the medical wing – was a bubbly, if somewhat secretive witch, and Castiel immediately flicked a hand in Dean’s direction to forestall his exit.

“Don’t bother her,” he grumbled. He hated to ask any of the other residents of the Home for help of this nature, knowing that each of them had problems of their own to grapple with, that each of them had their own reasons for being here. They were gracious enough to those around them to keep their pain to themselves and he could do the same.

Castiel could practically feel the long-suffering expression on Dean’s face, and when he turned his head to the side, he could see green eyes rolling back. “Yeah, I don’t think she’ll mind, Cas. Last I heard, she was busy taking names in TF2, and she can do that any day. Stay put for a second, okay?”

Knowing it was useless at this point to argue – and resisting the urge to point out that he had no intention of _not_ staying put for the foreseeable future – Castiel remained silent and watched the werewolf-in-spirit leave. 


End file.
